


Beauty Underneath

by angelatflightrisk



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Kind of a character study, OC, OC stories - Freeform, all of them are a team eventually, not necessarily at the same time as these take place, shruggo, these are all just snippets of like things these ones do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 21:13:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12466032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelatflightrisk/pseuds/angelatflightrisk
Summary: A look inside Gotham and it's denizens.





	1. Bonbon

It’s in the scent in the air, sharp and metallic, the scent itself possibly akin to that of blood. Hell-- maybe it is. Lord knows this city has seen enough blood to leave a permanent scent lingering in the air.

The second red flag, as an unremarkable, unassuming man makes his drunken way home from a night at the bar, should be how quiet Gotham is, tonight. How silent. Scary silent. Gotham’s not quiet, never, unless there’s trouble around the corner.

The third, as this unremarkable man feels the threat of vomit in the pit of his stomach, as he turns a corner and tries to remember where he lives, should be the clicking footfalls behind him. Heels hitting the concrete. Rhythmic, unrushed, sharp.

Of course, through this hazy buzz, this unremarkable man can’t quite recognize these flags. Not until the clicking gets to be annoying, and he whips around, filled with irrational, alcohol-drenched rage, to deck whoever’s making such a grating sound. All his eyes catch are a flash of bright colors, vibrant pinks and greens and blues, stark against the black of Gotham, before his fist connects with a cloud of smoke.

Nothing. Nobody there. The man stumbles, and finds himself like a bewildered animal.

There had been a person there, and now there was no one. Pink smoke danced up into Gotham’s galaxy-painted sky, and the man’s bloodshot gaze followed it’s path.

Didn’t make sense. But then, nothing makes sense, not with his buzz, not with that pounding headache behind his eyes. He wants nothing but to go home, to pass out. That girl he’d had his way with earlier, she’d probably be reporting him soon. Sure, she hadn’t seen him. Sure, they were in Gotham, where there were likely bigger things to worry about than petty rapes. But he wanted to be as far away from that particular bar as he could. Just to be safe.

Safe is the exact opposite of what this unremarkable Gotham citizen is as he turns around, this time with his nose against a stranger’s. He startles, jumps back, curses. He thinks he can hear the stranger laughing at him.

He looks up again once he can, and in his dizzy buzz he’s able to pick out some key details. The first is the flashiness of this teenager’s color scheme, the damn near neons of the pinks, blues, greens. The bright, slushie blue of their hair, in two pigtails, falling around their shoulders in messy curls, a stray fringe falling into their eyes. Flashy, bright, glittery makeup. A crop-top, a short skirt, heeled converse to their knees. Fishnets.

A bubble blown, pink bubblegum. A kind of feminine energy. A kind of crazy, circus-esq vibe about them. Like a Harley Quinn wannabe.

A glittery smile, the last thing he sees before the gunshot.


	2. The Freak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these have been sitting around for a while, i figured id just post them?? i don't post much about this team but like i love them.

“You shouldn’t.”

She turns around faster than anything, red hair whipping through the stale air faster than anything, fast enough for the curls to hit her neck before coming to a uneasy rest on her shaking shoulder. Her breath, already quick and unsteady and panicky, is now tenfold. Bloodshot, impossibly wide eyes dart around the alley. It’s empty as before.

The woman is hearing things. She’s hearing things.

The drugs make her feel things, see things, hear things. She’s hearing things.

Dark, cold, making her shiver and shake more than usual in the disgusting Gotham air. Her legs aren’t strong enough to support her, not now, and she’s suddenly thankful to be kneeling in the filth.

Her gaze finally turns back to the task at hand. The blanket, stained with reds and browns and filth. The cold, small heap inside. So small. Clutched tight to her bony chest with violently shaking hands.

“You shouldn’t. Don’t.”

Hearing things, she’s hearing things. She closes her eyes, tight, tight, tries to will the shaking away. Her trembling hands reach forward to do what she is here to do, to deposit this painful, lifeless burden.

A thud behind her scares the bundle out of her grip, sends it clashing with the concrete as she whips around to see what made the horrible violent sound.

“Aren’t you listening?”

A pathetic sound leaves her throat as her gaze comes back around, to where she left the bundle, the bundle which is now missing. A little ways up, perched on a narrow ledge on the brick wall of the alley. A freak, from hell. The sight makes her sick-- worse, worse than any of the hallucinations.

The body of a young boy, an emaciated young boy, the lower legs almost like a horse’s. Webbed fingers, horrible small nubbish horns, one broken. A tail like a devil’s supporting it as it crouches on the ledge, holding it to the wall in a way that looks impossible. It’s skin green and pale, the green turning bluish at it’s hands, it’s legs, in the places it’s skin carves horribly away. It’s hair curly and short like a young boy’s, that same bluish green.

It isn’t looking at her. It’s attention is on the bundle it cradles gently on it’s arm, gently pulling away the blanket to see the child inside. Lifeless. Strangled with a cord, bloodied and mangled by the mother’s fit. The creature looks pained, looks horribly sad, and when it finally lifts it’s face to her she sees it’s eyes-- big, and pure cherry red. No whites, no pupils. Red.

“What did you do?” It’s voice is soft, like a young boy’s, with no aspect of a hint of being such a horrible creature.

Panic rises in her throat, the tears coming to her eyes-- her voice comes out in a wail.

“I didn’t mean to--!”

“--It doesn’t matter,” It says, cruel, not giving her a chance to even explain the horrible demons she faces, the reason she was better without such a nuisance in her life. The blanket falls to the concrete in front of her as the creature cradles the small girl. She was only three.

“She’s just a baby,” The creature says, soft. Not directed at the mother, the helpless grieving mother. Its horrible red eyes find her again, and in the cruel pale Gotham moonlight she can see the tears on it’s cheeks.

“How could you do this? She’s a child. She’s your child.”

Again the creature doesn’t let her explain, and the last thing she sees is the creature laying the lifeless girl down as if her body can still feel where it lays and as if it will appreciate the care.

The last thing she sees before the snap of her frail neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think, what you want to see, request stuff, draw me things, WHATEVER JUST TALK TO ME my tumblr is
> 
> https://crashtacular.tumblr.com/
> 
> i love comments!!! i live for them!!! i check for them everyday please comment!

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think, what you want to see, request stuff, draw me things, WHATEVER JUST TALK TO ME my tumblr is
> 
> https://crashtacular.tumblr.com/
> 
> i love comments!!! i live for them!!! i check for them everyday please comment!


End file.
